


Day 4: Bondage

by hannahrhen



Series: Tag-Team: 30 Days of Steve/Bucky Porn [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Handcuffs, M/M, Minor Violence, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve knew he could escape the cuffs, but the Winter Soldier didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 4: Bondage

Steve knew he could escape the cuffs, but the Winter Soldier didn’t.

That was the only way to explain what the Soldier was doing to Steve right now, while Steve’s hands were tight behind his back, feet immobilized.

Making him ache all over.

Making him _beg_.

Somewhere, the Soldier had gotten hold of magnetic shackles just like Rumlow’s, adjusting one so their pull to each other was near-unbreakable. Kept them tucked away long enough to punch and kick and shove Steve into a chair while Steve barely fought back. (He hardly  _ever_ fought back.) Lurched over Steve and distracted him with Bucky’s smell, his nearness, while he forced one, and then another wrist into the bonds.

Steve had twitched when he heard the telltale sound of the interlock, the satisfied grunt of the Soldier’s completed mission. He’d thought of a too-small elevator, too many men--but he could break free. So he’d worked on calming his breath, stilled his nervous tugs at the cuffs, and waited. Watched with a twist in his gut as two more of those damned things had come from somewhere and bound Steve’s ankles to each other, keeping his thighs spread around the chair seat and feet curled together beneath it.

He could’ve pulled free, but he’d wanted to see what the Soldier would do. Wanted to look at Bucky’s face.

He just wasn’t sure Bucky was actually _there_.

The Soldier had preened at his victory over Steve, emboldened and in some ways healed by months of freedom and HYDRA’s diminishing shadow. Broken first, yes, and healed wrong. This was the new Bucky Barnes, who made threats, threaded fingers into Steve’s hair and yanked his head back to expose his throat. Demanded he listen. Demanded Steve acknowledge that _the Soldier has no name_ , that the Soldier _**needs** no name_. But at the rough drag of fingertips against his scalp, the sweat-seeded smell of Bucky so close, Steve had only made a sound, a sigh with a musical note buried within.

Arched his neck back further, never taking his eyes off Bucky’s.

The Soldier’s reaction had been immediate: breath speeding up, blue eyes widening, and that wet, chewed-up mouth falling open.

Steve only said his name. Expected a backhand, but ended up instead with those leather-clad thighs split over him, a lapful of assassin hissing more frustrated abuse and shifting--hell, just about _squirming_ to make his point, like he was going to kill Steve with his quads, that Steve was his mission and he was going to complete it this time, and then actually looking shocked when--

The juncture of the Soldier’s thighs was perfectly centered over his groin, and, oh, he had _made_ a _point._

“Jesus Christ, Buck,” Steve chuckled, desperate and stupid and embarrassed, “I’m only human.”

And the Soldier must not have retrieved those memories yet, if the look on his face was a tell. Shock slid fast into a calculated satisfaction, and that expression, on anyone else's face, meant things were about to stop going Steve's way. But the Soldier ... The Soldier shocked him back. Decided that opening Steve’s clothes, exposing and slicking him with some-- _ohhh_ \--some kind of clear oil he’d found on a shelf nearby, and making Steve watch as he shimmied out of those leather pants _threateningly_ would be a punishment. 

Steve was _pushing_ the cuffs together behind his back to keep from breaking loose--couldn't ... sure as hell couldn't stop this now. He huffed up at the ceiling while the Soldier settled back on his lap, took Steve's cock in his fist, and-- _oh, God, **God**_ \--worked him slowly inside. No prep, just a grim determination. If Steve could dish it out, the Soldier could take it.

For Steve, pushing himself inside Bucky after so long, feeling the head of his cock breach that tight hole, feeling Bucky take him slow and deep until their hips were flush, was like coming home. Until he saw the disdain under the lust in the Soldier’s eyes, and, okay, maybe home wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not yet.

Maybe this was like being in a fine hotel, with a few bear traps strewn around the floor.

The Soldier didn’t move immediately. Just sat, thickly impaled, on Steve’s cock, as he pulled on Steve’s hair and threw more nasty words at him. Like Steve was actually listening and and not inhaling his scent, wishing the Soldier would lean just a little closer so Steve could dig his teeth into the soft skin over that jawline and hold on.

“God, Buck,” Steve said as he raised himself up again and then sank down hard, bouncing on Steve’s thighs. Still expected the backhand for using the name, but instead the Soldier did it again. And again. “Jesus, Buck. Bucky.” Wanted the Soldier’s shirt off, his jacket, so he could lave those nipples with his tongue, suck and bite at them like Bucky always liked, but that hand snaked back into his hair and jerked him away once more. Steve could have broken free, yes, had his hands on the Soldier's back and his feet to thrust himself up into that perfect heat, but ... _God_ ...

The Soldier rode him, kept riding him slow and full, controlling Steve’s few movements with the strength of his thighs. Leaned close, finally, but before Steve could bite, he whispered in the nearest ear, “Were you always this much of a whore, Captain?”

Steve used the nearness anyway to nose against his chin, near those lips, to nudge into the waves of his hair. _Bucky._ Hoped to get some kissing out of this, but got a light slap to his cheek, instead--still more promising than a backhand. “Answer me. Were you a whore like this? Before?” Lifted his legs off the floor for emphasis and met his heels behind the back of Steve’s chair. The Soldier's entire weight was right on Steve’s dick, where was stone-hard and eager inside him.

Worth every bear trap.

Bucky wouldn’t have tried to shame Steve for wanting this, but _this_ was how it was _now._ Risked the response: “Only for you, Bucky. Only for you.” And shifted underneath the Soldier’s weight to encourage him to move.

That turned out to be the right tactic--he groaned as the Soldier pulled up again, and then pressed down hard, fluttering on the inside. _Approval._

The Soldier focused on his task then, and, gripping the back of the chair around Steve’s shoulders, began to ride Steve’s cock in earnest, firm backs of his naked thighs slapping against the rough denim of Steve’s jeans, head tilted forward so the hair collected in his eyes, and then tossed back again with a long, deep groan. It just took a few more bounces, completely focused on the pleasure he was taking from Steve’s body, before the Soldier was caught by his orgasm, crying out as his cock spurted up over Steve’s belly, onto his shirt.

Still not close enough to bite.

The Soldier fell still, gasping and limp over Steve’s chest, hands clutching his shoulders and their foreheads almost close enough, and he was probably going to leave Steve like this, hard and wanting. And laugh at him.

Broken, and healed wrong.

_No, thanks._

The shackles were history, and he grabbed the Soldier by the hips, lifting him up with wide palms under his ass and reclaiming his rhythm. Up and back down, and the Soldier was so limp that he allowed himself to fall forward, head on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve was finally able to pull back enough to nip into the soft flesh under his jaw, little bites that followed the bone. The Soldier whimpered at the tiny pains, at the rippling aftershocks, and Steve pushed him down, into place, as he came hard inside that once-familiar, still-loved body.

He kept his hands on the Soldier's hips, unwilling to let go yet. After a minute of quiet, he heard-- _felt_ the man laugh, a vibration against Steve's chest. “You resisted longer than I thought.” The tone was still cool, mocking--well, you couldn’t have it all.

“What do you--”

He got an incredulous look, and those metal fingers tapped on the repulsing shackle, which he had carefully set on Steve’s right wrist, nearest the metal arm. “You think they didn’t brief me on how well these _don’t_ work on you?”

“Buck--” And the next thing would have been a smile, a little huff of a disbelieving laugh, but ...

But the Soldier was up and off--making them both hiss--in another moment, unbalancing Steve’s chair with a shove and sending him crashing to the floor. By the time Steve got his wits back and pulled himself out of the leg restraints, the Soldier was long gone.

Damn. But not unexpected.

Steve thought about them as he cleaned up, those cuffs pulled together with a force near-impossible to break. And when he left the building, he took them along.

He’d probably find a use for them again.

**Author's Note:**

> Melonbutterfly is next with Day 5!
> 
> [Find me on tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com)!


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